


Burning the Midnight Lamp Alone

by PrairieChzHead (msannomalley)



Series: Lost Causes [2]
Category: The Trixie Belden Mysteries - Julie Campbell Tatham & Kathryn Kenny
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1970s, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Casual Sex, F/M, Vietnam War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 22:18:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11541552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msannomalley/pseuds/PrairieChzHead
Summary: Dan Mangan tries to escape his demons only to meet someone with as many demons of her own.





	Burning the Midnight Lamp Alone

July 8, 1973  
Harrisburg, Nebraska

 

The last place twenty-three year old Dan Mangan ever thought he’d end up was Western Nebraska.  When he was a teen-ager, he didn’t get to travel as much as his friends had because he always had to work.  In fact, Dan figured he’d end up back in New York City as a cop, but it didn’t turn out that way.  Uncle Sam and his bank account had something to say about that.

At least I got to travel, he thought bitterly, reflecting on the last four years of his life.  Upon his high school graduation, Dan learned that his scholarships had fallen through.  The money he had saved up didn’t cover all of his college expenses, so he decided to take a year off to work.  Then came his draft notice. 

After he had returned home from the war, he wanted to escape.  Dan drifted westward, and soon found himself working on a large cattle ranch not far from the small town of Harrisburg, Nebraska.  The name of the place was O’Brien’s Irish Acres.  Dick O’ Brien, the owner, was in his late thirties and Establishment to the core.  But he was willing to overlook Dan’s long hair when he learned that Dan had both an Irish background and had recently served his country in Vietnam. 

Presently, Dan was replacing fence posts out at some far-flung corner of the ranch.  He welcomed the strenuous work.  That and the wide-open space gave him a sense of calm.  But it did nothing to erase his anger, his bitterness, his nightmares, and his guilt. 

Dan mostly kept to himself.  He lived in a small, two room cabin on the other side of the O’ Brien’s stables.  It was out of sight from the main house where Dick lived with his wife, Mary, and their two children.   His living quarters were ideal as it allowed him to be self-sufficient.  He only drove into town when he needed food or liquor.  Occasionally, Mary would bring him some food.  He only saw the children the day he arrived. 

After digging the holes and placing three posts by hand, Dan took a break.  He sat down in the grass, unscrewed the top to the canteen and took a drink.  Having discarded his shirt, he could feel the July sun beating mercilessly down upon his tanned skin. 

 _At least in the daytime it’s peaceful,_  he thought, surveying the land around him.  Despite his present state of mind, he was still able to marvel at a place where one could see for miles around him, but yet not see another soul.  He was not in New York anymore. 

*********

Around seven, Dan called it a day.  He was too exhausted and too sore to continue working.  Dick only required him to put in eight hours, but Dan often put in more than that.  When he stopped, he went home and ate alone.  Then he went to sleep.  He didn’t want to sit around for most of the evening.  That usually led to him thinking too much, which in turn, led to him breaking out a bottle of Jack Daniels to make the thoughts go away.  He had prided himself on his self-control.  But these days, he couldn’t seem to find it.  He figured that it got lost with the part of him that made him what he used to be. 

Dan grabbed his shirt and the canteen from the ground and headed towards the battered green pick-up truck that belonged to the ranch.  He threw both of them in the vehicle, then slid into the driver’s seat.  He turned the key and the engine sputtered to life.  Dan thought about going down to the lake for a quick dip.  He usually did that on hot days.  But he decided to return to the ranch instead. 

When he got back, he found that Mary had left him some food.  He was starving, so he heated up the leftover chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and corn and ate that.  He washed his dishes, then he jumped in the shower, washing away the day’s sweat and grime.  When he finished, he went to bed. 

But he couldn’t sleep. 

It was a very hot night, and not particularly good sleeping weather.  And his mind kept replaying the same scene it did every night.  It was the scene that made him come west in the first place.  It was the scene that caused him to be consumed with guilt every time he looked at Mart Belden.  And it was part of the reason why he could only look at Jim Frayne with contempt.  

Dan got out of bed, and threw on a pair of jeans.  He grabbed the bottle of JD and sat on the front steps.   A lamp from inside the cabin cast a faint light upon him.  He didn’t bother with a glass.   The whiskey burned his throat on the way down, but he ignored it and kept drinking.  He’d stop, stare into the darkness, and then drink again. 

“Do you make it a habit of drinking alone?”  A voice asked him from the darkness. 

Dan didn’t recognize the voice.  He knew it didn’t belong to Mary.  The voice was definitely female, but it had a husky quality to it, like cigarettes and whiskey.  He couldn’t see the speaker, but he knew the smell of marijuana, and the aroma preceded his visitor.

“So what if I do?” he answered her shortly. 

“So what if you do,” she parroted back.  “We all have our vices.  I get stoned alone.”  As she spoke, she stepped into the faint light.  The woman was wearing a halter top, really short shorts, and sandals.  Where the light hit her hair, Dan saw auburn.  Rather than being straight like most women seemed to wear it these days, it hung in waves.  She appeared to be about his age. 

“So you’re the new hand,” she said.  She looked him over critically.  “Are you Irish or are you a vet?  ‘Cause Dickie don’t hire none of them long-haired freaky people unless they’re Irish or they’ve been in the Army.”

“Both,” Dan shrugged. 

“Lucky you,” the woman replied sarcastically.  “Dickie must love you to death.”  Dan noticed that she held a bottle of vodka in her hand.  She put it up to her lips and drank.  Some of it dribbled down her chin.  She wiped it away with the back of her hand.   _Drunk and stoned,_  he thought.   _Quite the combination._  

“So what brought you out to Bum Fuck Nowhere?” she asked him. 

He shrugged again.  Normally he wouldn’t answer her questions, but the whiskey was loosening his tongue. 

Had to get away,” he replied.  

Ah,” she replied knowingly.  “People like you make me realize that I was right to protest the war.  I have yet to meet a vet that has come back unscathed.”  She looked down at her feet.  “But try telling that to someone like Dickie.” 

Dan noticed that every time she said the word “Dickie”, her voice dripped with contempt. 

“What do you have against Dick?” he asked her point blank. 

“You want the long list or the short one,” she replied.  She was silent, but then shook her head as if she was telling herself no.  “Nevermind,” she said softly.  She took another drink of vodka. 

As if the liquor fortified her, she stood up straight and squared her shoulders.  “You’re probably sitting there saying to yourself, ‘Who in the hell is this person?’   You’ve probably never heard of me.  I’m Dickie’s younger sister.  The one the family never talks about.” 

“Why don’t they talk about you?” Dan asked her, taking a drink of his whiskey. 

“Because I’m the outcast.  The black sheep.   I don’t live here by the way.  I just visit.  I come back here to remind myself why the fuck I left in the first place.” 

Dan had no reply.  He found the fact that this woman could curse like a sailor oddly comforting.  He used to know a lot of girls in the city who could curse like this woman.

“Wanna know what it is I do?”  She didn’t give Dan a chance to reply.  “My name is Michelle O’Brien.  I’m twenty-three and I dropped out of college.  I’m Dickie’s drug addled, hippie sister, even though I never lived in a commune or meditated or been to a love-in in my life.  I fuck rock stars.  I hang out at places like the Hyatt House or the Rainbow Room or the Whisky-a-Go-Go.  My groupie name is Arizona O’Brien.  I’m nothing but a nuisance to Dickie and I have been since the age of eight.”  She looked at Dan, waiting for a reaction.  He didn’t give her the one she was expecting. 

“I used to be in a gang,” he replied.  “I mugged people to survive because I lived on the streets.  I was an orphan until I got sent to live with my uncle.” 

“You’re an orphan, too,” she said softly.  “My folks died when I was eight.  Killed in a car crash.” 

Dan didn’t say anything.  He didn’t feel like comparing notes with a stranger.  He suspected that the pot and the vodka had loosened Michelle’s tongue quite a bit.  Jack Daniels had made him say more than he wanted to say himself tonight. 

Michelle didn’t wait for an invitation to sit down.  She sat next to Dan on the steps. 

“So what’s your name?” she asked.  “Where you from?”

“Dan,” he replied.  “New York.  I lived in the city and then I went out to Westchester County.”

Michelle wrinkled her nose.  “New York is pretty happening, but Westchester is full of a lot of boring, rich people.  Been to New York a few times.” 

They didn’t say anything after that for some time.  Michelle grew tired of her vodka, so she reached into her pocket and produced a joint.  She lit it and began to smoke.  She offered it to Dan, but he declined.  He wanted to stick with the whiskey. 

“Where do you wander?” he asked.

“Wherever I feel like,” she replied.

There was a longer period of silence.  This time Michelle broke it.

“I usually crash here,” she said, indicating the cabin.   “Don’t have to deal with the family.  This place has been empty for the longest time.  Dickie’s hands have their own places.”  She laughed bitterly.  “You know my niece and nephew are scared to death of me?  Dickie’s been filling their heads with stories.” 

 _They’re probably scared of you because you’re so high all the time,_ he thought to himself.  In the light, behind the glassy look, he could see the troubled expression in Michelle’s eyes.  It was a mirror of the same look he had.  Apparently, Michelle had demons she wrestled with as well.  She smoked and he drank in silence.  The whiskey was making him feel good.  For some reason, the sight of Michelle smoking that joint fascinated him.  He couldn’t take his eyes off of her, how she inhaled, held the smoke in her lungs, and then exhaled. 

“Sure you don’t want some?” she asked.  Dan shook his head. 

“Suit yourself,” she shrugged taking one last drag.  She stubbed the last of it out.  Michelle wanted to ask Dan what specifically he was trying to get away from, but didn’t.  Instead, she asked him something else. 

“Ever wish you could fall off the face of the earth?”  She was feeling reflective and melancholy. 

Dan shrugged.  “Every damned day.”  He took another drink.  The he offered the bottle to Michelle.  She accepted it and took a drink of her own.  When she handed it back to him, her breast brushed against his arm.  Dan had a reaction. 

It had been quite some time since he had been with a woman.  He figured that most women didn’t want him anymore.  He had no trouble getting dates in high school, but after he came home from the war, he was so bitter and angry, most women stayed away from him.  He wondered if Michelle…

 _Just because she believes in ‘free love’ doesn’t mean she wants to screw you,_ he scolded himself.   _And who would?_    _Besides, she’s higher than a kite right now._

 _But you’re pretty drunk yourself,_ another voice reminded him. 

“Me, too,” she said.  Dan was jolted back into reality.  “Every damn day.”  She looked him in the eye as she said that with such conviction. 

Michelle saw something when she looked at him.  She knew the look when a man wanted to get laid.  She could tell that it had been awhile for him.  Something in her perked up.  It wasn’t the thought of sex; so much as it was the prospect of feeling alive.  Sex made her feel like she was alive.  She touched his arm. 

Dan looked at her.  Despite the bloodshot eyes, Michelle was an attractive woman. 

“I know you want it,” she whispered.  “I can tell.” 

Dan didn’t have a reply.  Michelle went on.  “I know you want to put your hands on me and fuck me senseless.  Go ahead.”  She touched his arm again, but this time, she slowly stroked his bicep. 

That did it for him.  He stood up, took her hand, and pulled Michelle up into a standing position.  He led her into the cabin. 

Once inside, Dan backed Michelle up against the wall.  He wasn’t gentle.  He attacked her neck right behind her ear, while his hands slid inside her halter top, kneading her breasts.  “Oh God, yes,” she breathed, as her fingers dug into the muscles of his back.  She hooked her left leg over Dan’s hip.

Dan decided that Michelle’s top had to go.  He loosened the strings enough to pull it off of her.  Once her breasts were free, he took one into his mouth, sucking and even biting.  Michelle moaned louder. 

Dan couldn’t wait any longer.  He pulled her shorts down, noticing that she wasn’t wearing panties.  While he was taking off his jeans, she slipped from her sandals.  Dan backed her up against the wall again.  This time, Michelle wrapped her legs around him as he pistoned back and forth, using the wall to balance her.  She moaned and whimpered, her fingers becoming tangled in his long hair. 

Dan soon found his release.  He backed up enough to allow her to put her feet on the floor, but he leaned against her, panting.  Michelle was panting, too.  There was nothing quite like a good, old fashioned, down and dirty fuck with the lights on.   _At least this one didn’t forget what that was like,_ she thought.  She had encountered more than a few men who were into freaky things. 

When he caught his breath, Dan let go of her.  He grabbed the whisky, went to his bedroom and she followed him.  He didn’t say no or tell her to leave.  Both of them got into the bed, and they lay side by side in the darkness, not touching each other. 

“Been awhile for you, hasn’t it?” Michelle asked him.  Dan was silent, which Michelle took to mean he was embarrassed. 

“That’s okay,” she said.  Then she turned her head towards him.  “It was good.”

Dan only shrugged. 

“It was,” she insisted.  “I wasn’t faking it.” 

For some reason that remarked piqued his interest.  “You fake it?”

“Uh-huh,” Michelle replied.  “You got some of these rock stars who think that they’re these big studs, but they’re not.  So you have to fake it to let them live under the delusion that they're the world’s greatest lover.”  She rolled over to face him.  “Some of them are so into doing really freaky shit, they forget what a nasty, dirty, sweaty fuck is like.” 

Dan felt a mixture of discomfort with Michelle’s openness, but yet he was curious, and even a bit titillated.  He’d never met a woman before who was that open about her sex life.  He could not fathom Trixie or even Honey talking about whom they slept with, if they had slept with anyone at all. 

“So tell me,” he said to Michelle.  “Why did you come by tonight?”

“I didn’t feel like being alone,” she replied.  “I don’t think you do, either, otherwise you would have told me to leave.” 

Dan was finding out that Michelle seemed to know exactly what he was thinking and would say it before he could say anything.  Despite his present state of mind, he didn’t want to be alone.  But he always thought he was doomed to be alone. 

He glanced over at Michelle, who was trying to reach the bottle of Jack Daniels.  He suspected her bravado and her need to shock people was just a front.  She was troubled, and he could tell.  He suspected that some of it had to do with her brother, his boss.  What he didn’t know, he didn’t feel like asking her. 

*********

Three a.m.

“No!  Wait!”

Michelle became aware of someone shouting.  She opened one eye before the headache hit her full force.   She woke up like this a lot.  She put her pillow over her head. 

“No!” 

Michelle took the pillow off, and looked over at Dan, who was shouting and thrashing around in his sleep.  Despite her pounding head, she gently shook his arm.

“Dan.” 

“NO!”  This time, it came out as a scream.

“Dan!  Wake up!”  She shook him again.  Dan sat up straight.  His hair was damp with sweat and he looked confused. 

Michelle sat up, too, not bothering to cover herself up, and her headache forgotten.  “Shhh,” she whispered.  “It’s okay.  You were having a nightmare.” 

Dan shook his head in such a way it looked as if he were clearing it.  Michelle reached over to him and pulled him close to her, holding him as if he were a child.  “It’s okay,” she said in soft and soothing tones.  “You’re not there anymore.”  She dropped a kiss on his damp hair. Michelle held him like that until he seemed to calm down enough to lie back down.  Michelle didn’t let him go.

“You want to tell me about it?” she asked him. 

“It’s the same dream I have every night,” he said.  “It’s the one where I get to watch one of my buddies get maimed but I can’t help him or stop it from happening.” 

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Dan that it wasn’t his fault nor could he have prevented his friend from getting wounded, but Michelle didn’t say it.  He probably wouldn’t have believed her anyway.   Instead, she kept holding him.  Silently she cursed her brother, the U.S. government, and anyone else she could think of for supporting that damned war. 

“It’s okay,” she whispered, kissing his cheek.  “It’s going to be okay.” 

Dan only stared at her.  He almost laughed at the notion of someone as messed up as the woman who held him at this moment telling him that everything was okay.  Everything wasn’t okay, and it wasn’t going to be okay for a long, long time, if ever.  But she was just trying to comfort him.   _I guess I can appreciate that,_ he thought.  Up until now, he had nobody who even did that much for him. 

They lay back down, Michelle’s arms still around him.  Dan didn’t realize until that moment, just how much he had missed, no, craved the feel of a woman’s arms around him.  He thought for a brief moment that maybe Michelle had some ulterior motives, but he noticed that she didn’t make any other moves. 

“Think you can go back to sleep?” she asked him. 

“I guess,” he replied.  It usually took him a long time to get back to sleep, if he could manage that at all. 

“Okay, then,” she said.  She brought her face closer to his to kiss him on the cheek, but she stopped short.  They stared at each other until Dan sought out her mouth.  He kissed her deeply, yet softly. 

Michelle was secretly thrilled.  No man had ever kissed her like that before.  Most of them didn’t even bother to kiss her, just cutting to the chase.  She kissed him back, tightening her arms around him. 

Dan felt compelled to touch every inch of her skin.  She felt so soft.  Michelle returned every one of his kisses.  Hands roamed everywhere. 

Dan took his time with her, savoring every caress, every kiss, every moment of this union.  He could feel the darkness leaving at the moment.   It was making him feel alive.

Michelle let him make all the moves.  She could sense that was what he needed.  She was so consumed with this need to feel loved, she let him do what he wanted. 

They made love to each other, passionately.  When they both climaxed, each of them felt like something was being washed away.  Exhausted, they fell asleep in each other’s arms. 

*********

When Dan woke up, Michelle was gone.  For a moment, he was confused, as if what happened last night was real or an alcohol fueled dream.  But when he rolled over, her scent was on his pillow and the room smelled like sex. 

He didn’t remember much of what happened last night, other than drinking.  He had a faint recollection of their conversation out on the porch.  Then he remembered waking up from the same nightmare that always woke him up.  He realized that last night wasn’t a dream. 

Dan sat up, rubbing his eyes, then his temples.  A piece of paper on the nightstand caught his eye. 

> Dan,
> 
> I didn’t want to get you in trouble with Dick, so I left before he could see me leave your place.   
>  ~~Last night was the first time~~  
>    
>  See you around.    
>  Thank you.  
>  Michelle

 

 _The first time for what?_ Dan wondered, reading the note again.  Obviously Michelle had started to write something, but she crossed it out.  He wondered what the thank you was for. 

*********

After he was done working for the day, Dan decided that he would head down to the lake.  When he got there, he found Michelle.  She was sitting on the dock, her feet in the water.  She had a bottle of bourbon next to her and she was smoking.  This time it was a cigarette. 

He went to the dock and sat down next to her.  She was either so lost in thought or she was pretending not to notice him.  Dan tapped her on the shoulder.  She looked up at him.  Her eyes were glassy. 

“I got your note,” he said to her. 

“I didn’t want you to be offended,” she replied, slurring the words.  "You know, 'cause I left before you woke up.  I hate it when guys do that to me."  She moved her feet back and forth in the water, making swishing sounds.  The sounds and the water churning about seemed to fascinate her.  For the longest time, that was the only other sound, except for the birds and the insects that were around. 

Dan broke the silence.  “Last night was the first time for what?”

Michelle shrugged.  “It’s not important,” she said with a wave of her hand.  She picked up the bottle next to her and took a large swallow.  She turned her face away from Dan.  She had tears in her eyes, and she didn’t want him to see.

She wasn’t very good at hiding her feelings when she was inebriated, however.  “It's important to you,” Dan said. 

She turned to face him, and he could see the tears.  “Hey,” he started.

Michelle took another drink.  “Last night was the first time that a man ever really kissed me.  It was the first time that a man ever really made love to me.” 

Dan was surprised to hear this.  “It’s true,” she said, noticing his astonished look.  “It’s always about them and what they want.  Nobody ever cares about me or what I might want or that I have feelings or anything like that.”

Dan let her continue speaking.  He knew the only reason she was so free with her words was because she was drunk.  “They use me.  They use me and I let them.  It’s the closest thing to love I’ll ever know.  Then I come back here and Dickie takes every opportunity to tell me how much of a whore I am.”  She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

Dan was at a loss for what to do.  Hesitantly, he put his arm around her while she cried.

When she stopped crying, he got up.  Then he helped her up and told her to come back with him.  He had to help her walk, because she couldn’t do it on her own.  He drove the truck back to his place.  After helping her inside, he let her collapse on the bed, where she passed out. 

*********

The next morning, Michelle couldn't remember how she got to the cabin, or even meeting Dan at the lake.  When she woke up, he had already left for the day.  Her head was pounding.  She also realized that she had slept in her clothes.  Even though her stomach hurt and her head pounded, she figured Dan was out setting fence posts again.  She was going to find him and apologize to him, even though she didn’t remember doing anything.  She figured that she must have done something wrong.  She always seemed to be doing something wrong.

Michelle never made it out to the field.  Her head and stomach had other plans.  Try as she might, she could barely lift her head up from the pillow.  However, she did manage to crawl to the bathroom when she had to throw up.  She spent most of the day lying on the bed.  But by the time Dan came back, she felt better enough to sit on his couch. 

“Hey,” he said to her as he walked in the door. 

“How was your day, dear,” she quipped in return.  Dan smiled in reply.  It was a small smile, not really containing much humor in it. 

“Fine,” he replied.  “But you don’t look so good.”

“I feel like shit,” she said.  “Why didn’t you stop me?”

“You were already pretty wasted by the time I got there.” 

“I suppose,” she said.  Michelle swallowed nervously.  “Listen,” she began.  “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Dan asked, confused.

“For whatever it was I did.” 

“You didn’t do anything, Michelle.  I went down to the lake after I was done working and I found you there.  You were drunk, you cried on my shoulder, I brought you back here, and you passed out.  That’s it.”  He didn’t want to bring up what it was she had said down at the lake.  He wasn’t sure if he believed her.  After all, she had made that confession while she was really drunk.  But there was a small part of him that felt really good when he had heard what she had said about what happened the other night.  It was a stroke to his male ego. 

She lowered her head.  “Oh.”  Then she added.  “I thought I did something wrong.  I woke up in my clothes.” 

Dan sat down next to her.  “What does sleeping in your clothes have to do with anything?”  

“I don’t know,” Michelle said.  “Forget it.”   She stretched out on the couch and stared at the ceiling. 

“Suit yourself,” Dan replied.  He was hungry and decided to get something to eat.  He searched the contents of the cupboards and found a bag of potato chips that were opened.  Mary hadn’t stopped by with food for him today. 

He went over to sit on the arm of the couch. Then he started eating the potato chips.  He offered some to Michelle, who refused.  “I’ll throw up again,” she said.  He continued to eat while Michelle kept staring at the ceiling.  The silence was deafening.

When he finished, he got up to throw out the empty bag.  Then Dan sat down again.  Michelle sat up to give him some room. 

“So what’s your story?” she asked him.  “I told you mine.” 

“Not much to tell,” he replied.  He told her about his life from the earliest he could remember, to when each of his parents had died, his involvement in his old gang, and moving to Sleepyside.  He avoided the subject of the war and how he ended up spending four years of his life in hell. 

Michelle listened intently.  When he finished speaking, she said, “My folks died at the same time.  They were killed in a car wreck on their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.   Dickie was my age and a bachelor at the time.  I was an afterthought,” she said.  “My parents had me when they were in their forties.

“Anyway, since I had no other living relatives that lived close by, the courts gave my brother legal custody of me.  He didn’t want it and he made that point loud and clear.

“Dickie was never there for me.  One day things are okay, the next my parents are dead.  He ignored me most of the time, unless I got into trouble.  Then he’d lecture me and yell at me and shit. 

“He married Mary when I was in high school.  I don’t know if he finally realized I needed someone around my own house, but by then it was too late.  I was always getting into trouble.  Not the same kind you did,” she added.  “But I’d cut class, come home drunk, get sent home from school because my skirts were too short or I wore too much makeup, stuff like that.  I also did a lot of ‘parking’, if you know what I mean.” 

Michelle brought her legs up and tucked them under her.  “I went to college, but that lasted about two months.  College wasn't for me.  Dickie shelled out the money for it just to get me out of his hair.  And things were happening and I was missing out when I was stuck in Omaha.  So I quit and went to California for awhile.  I protested the war because everyone else was.  I got high, got laid, and it was groovy.  Hell, I even went to Woodstock.” 

“You didn’t take the brown acid,” Dan asked.

“No,” she chuckled.  It was a small chuckle, though.  “Anyway, I hooked up with this band that was like on the verge of making it big.  They would open for people like Zeppelin.  So I hung out and partied with them.  And slept with them, too.  Then I graduated to bigger fish in the sea.  But that’s my life.  Get high, get laid, and party.  Then I get homesick so I come back here.  When I do, I’m just reminded why I left in the first place.”

“Dick,” Dan said.  She nodded. 

“Did you ever make it to college?” she asked. 

“No,” he replied, with a bitter edge to his voice.  “I was supposed to, but my scholarships fell through.  So I decided to get a job and go a year later, because I had to pay my own way.  But then I got my draft notice.”  Michelle noticed that his jaw had tensed up. 

“If I had me a rich daddy, I probably wouldn’t have gone.  He would have pulled some strings so I didn’t have to.  But I didn’t have a rich daddy...or a rich adopted daddy.” 

“Who had the rich adopted daddy?” she wondered aloud. 

“Some guy I knew back in New York,” he replied.  “I wasn’t surprised when I found out that had happened.  Blue bloods don’t have to send their boys off to war, but the rest of us have to go and see shit no person should ever have to see.” 

“Like what?” Michelle asked.  She wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but she felt compelled to ask. 

“Like watching in horror as one of your best friends gets his legs blown off by a land mine planted by the fucking United States Military and knowing you could have stopped it from happening, but you didn’t do a damn thing,” he spat.  “And he actually volunteered to join the Army.  He wanted to be noble and help out his parents so they didn’t have to pay for  _his_ college tuition.  All he wanted was the fucking GI Bill.  He lost his legs in the bargain.” 

Michelle watched as Dan’s expression went through a frightening mixture of anger and guilt. 

“That’s so sad,” she said quietly.

“Sad?” he retorted.  “Try a crime.  Try a tragedy.  Try a fucking shame.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” she retorted back.  “What am I supposed to say?”  She angrily crossed her arms in front of her chest. 

Instead of replying, Dan got up, stalked over to the counter and grabbed an unopened bottle of whiskey.  He didn’t even bother with a glass. 

“And like that’s going to make it all better,” Michelle said sarcastically.  “Drinking yourself into oblivion and running away.” 

“You’re a fine one to talk,” Dan snapped back, taking another long drink.  “People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.” 

“But when are you going back to New York?” she asked, choosing to ignore his last remark. 

“Why do you come here when you hate your brother’s guts?” he countered. 

“At least I  _have_ enough guts to go home again,” she taunted him.  “You don’t have balls enough to even face your friend or face that guy whose daddy bought his way out of getting drafted.  You run away, drink, and stew about it.  You can snap at me all you want, but you know deep down it’s the truth.” 

Michelle hit a nerve.  A very painful nerve.  He wanted to strike back at her, but he didn’t dare hit her.  He couldn’t do that. He looked indignantly at her. “So you’re a slut when you’re high, and a bitch when you’re sober,” he yelled at her. 

In response, Michelle threw off the blanket.  She stalked over to the door, yanked it open, and slammed it shut behind her. 

She didn’t go very far, however.  She sat on the steps and lit up a joint.  It didn’t bother her much when Dan had pointed out the hypocrisy of her words.  It did bother her when he called her a slut.  She inhaled deeply and held the smoke in her lungs.  But the joint only calmed her a little bit.  She was still angry.  And she was hurt.   _The other night he makes love to me, tonight he screams at me.  Looks like I fucked up again._

Inside, Dan continued drinking, his anger now down to a simmer.  He wasn’t really angry with Michelle.  She only made a statement. She didn’t condemn him for being over there, or for venting his anger. It was only a statement, an observation made by Michelle who didn’t know what to say, but felt that she had to say something. 

There was a part of him, hidden behind his anger that regretted what he had said to her.  However, he made no effort to get up and apologize to her.  Something was holding him back. 

Dan decided to go and lie down on his bed.  The whiskey was calming him down and making him somewhat sleepy.  He went into the bedroom and undressed.  He climbed into bed and continued drinking.  When three-quarters of the bottle had been consumed, he passed out. 

A good three hours and a joint later, Michelle crept back into the cabin.  The lights were on in the living area, but Dan wasn’t sitting on the couch.  The bottle he had been drinking from was gone.  Feeling calmer and somewhat mellow, Michelle stripped down to her underwear,  turned out the lights, and settled on the couch to go to sleep. 

Just like the other night, around the same time, Michelle woke up when she heard Dan thrashing around and calling out in his sleep.  She crept from the couch.  Slipping into the bedroom, she could see him, tossing about, drenched in sweat and calling out to his friend to come back.  Then he bolted upright, looking around the room in confusion and terror. 

Michelle slid into the bed next to him.  She drew him closer to her so that her cheek was resting on the top of his head.  She started rocking him back and forth gently, like a mother would rock a child. 

“Shh,” she whispered.  “Shh..”

She consoled him in near silence, occasionally whispering to him to calm him down.  The scents of alcohol, marijuana, and sweat mingled in the room.  When he had calmed down enough, Dan gazed at Michelle. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.  Then he leaned in and kissed her so deeply, she thought she was going to melt on the spot.   _Watch it,_ an inner voice told her.   _Don’t get too close._ She ignored the voice.

“I’m sorry, too,” she whispered.  She reached out to touch his jaw, running her finger along the contours of his face.

*********

For the rest of that week, Michelle would seek Dan out while he was working during the day and hang out or she would come by the cabin in the evenings. During those hot summer evenings, Dan would get drunk and Michelle would get high. They would talk some.  Dan talked about his experiences in Vietnam, but left it to mostly stories about what he did while he was on leave.  Michelle told him a little about the life of a rock groupie, and some of the crazy things she had seen, but she avoided talking about anything specific she participated in.  But they always seemed to end up in bed together, in a little varying pattern of make love, fall asleep, wake up from a nightmare, consolation, then make love again, before falling asleep until dawn.  Then, except for one night, Michelle would leave before Dan woke up.

On Sunday afternoon, Dan was out in the field again.  He had the day off, but he sought out the open spaces and the comfort they seemed to give him.  He sat in the grass looking out at the countryside. 

Michelle found him.  She plopped herself down next to him, and for once, she neither smelled like pot or alcohol. 

“I’m leaving tomorrow morning,” she stated.  She didn’t look at him when she said that.  She couldn’t bring herself to look.  The inner voice was sending her warnings again, but she always chose to ignore those. 

“Where you headed?” 

“Denver,” she replied.  “I’m heading out on the road again.  I drive to Denver and hop a plane to wherever I’m headed.” 

Dan didn’t reply.  He knew what that meant.  But for some reason, he didn’t like the idea of Michelle going off to do what she did most of the time.  He suddenly felt this possessiveness he never felt before.  He looked over at her.  He didn’t want her to go.  For the first time, he had someone to talk to, who had somewhat of an understanding of him. He had only known her for about a week, but he felt like something important was being taken away from him. 

 _But you don’t really have her,_ his conscience chided him.   _She’s not yours._

“When are you coming back?” he asked her. 

She shrugged.  “Hard to say.  Could be months.  Could be longer than that.”   _Could be sooner, too._

Seized by something he couldn’t explain, Dan pulled her close and kissed her.  He bore her backwards onto the ground. 

*********

Monday Morning  
Around 5 am

Dan woke up to a knock on his door.  Sleepily, he got up, threw on a pair of jeans, and opened it.  It was Michelle.  She had driven to his cabin on her way out.  She stood on his doorstep, haloed by the hazy colors of dawn’s light.  Dan thought she looked truly beautiful.

He motioned for her to come in.  She stepped inside.  “I came to say good-bye,” she said. 

Neither of them spoke.  Neither of them knew what to say. 

Michelle shifted from one foot to another.  “I could call you, if you want.” 

“Okay.” Dan said.  “If you want to.” 

“I can write, too,” she said nervously. 

“You don’t have to…”

“No, I want to,” she replied.  She bit her lip.  Michelle wasn’t so sure she wanted to leave this time.  But she knew that neither she nor Dan had any business making commitments to each other.  She wasn’t too keen on them, and a commitment was probably the last thing he needed right now.   She wasn’t sure she believed that love really existed.  Sex was release, comfort, feeling good, and love was some mythical ideal invented by poets, romance novelists, and greeting card companies.  She believed that you didn’t have to have one to have the other. 

Dan knew she wanted to say something else.  He waited patiently for her to speak.  He wished she didn’t have to go.  He wasn’t sure what made him feel better, that Michelle seemed to understand his pain to a point or that she was even more messed up than he was.  He just knew he didn’t want her to leave. 

“You’re driving to Denver?” Dan asked her.  “You’re car’s okay, right?”  Michelle nodded. 

They stood in silence yet again until Michelle broke it.

“No strings,” she blurted out. 

“Huh?”

“No strings.  I’ll come back, but I can’t promise you anything,” she said.  “I can’t promise you I’ll stay forever and settle down or anything like that.  But I’ll come back to see you.”  Michelle looked down at the floor. 

“No strings,” Dan repeated.    “Why not?”

She shrugged.  “It’s just better this way.  Nobody expects anything.  Nobody gets hurt.” 

Dan supposed he could live with that.  He was hurting enough as it was.  So was she.  Why add to the pain in their lives? 

Michelle bit her lip again.  “I have to get going.  It’s a long way to Denver.”  She stepped up to Dan, braced the palms of her hands on his bare chest, then stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. 

“Good bye, Dan,” she whispered. 

“Good bye, Michelle,” he replied, kissing her back.  His arms reached out to pull her into an embrace. 

A few moments later, Michelle broke the hug and started to go out to her car.  Dan followed her.  She got settled into her battered Volkswagen, rolled down the window, and then started the vehicle.  Before she put the car into gear, she waved to Dan.  He waved back. 

 _It’s better this way, Michelle.  If you don’t get too close, you can’t hurt him._ But something deep down inside knew it was already too late. 

Michelle put the car into gear and started to drive.  She didn’t look back at Dan.  She didn’t want him to see that she was crying. 

Dan stood on the porch watching her depart.  He felt like he was losing something really important.  She said she would be back.  He hoped it would be soon. 

As the car drove on, Dan could hear the car’s radio playing. Sighing, Dan turned and walked into the cabin to get ready for his day’s work.

**Author's Note:**

> I own none of this, except for the groupie and her dysfunctional family. Trixie Belden is property of Random House publishing. 
> 
> This story was inspired by two songs:  
> Burning the Midnight Lamp Alone by Jimi Hendrix  
> I'd Love You To Want Me by Lobo
> 
> Harrisburg, Nebraska is a real town that I picked off the map because it was the only town in its county, and to me, that looked like it was a very lonely and isolated place. I have never been there, and my portrayal of it is based upon a composite of a couple of very small towns I used to live in and not what the actual town of Harrisburg, NE may actually be like. I chose it from the Rand McNally Road Atlas. This was before Google Earth and Google Maps existed. When I finally saw the real Harrisburg, NE on Google Maps, it's not what I imagined it to be. :)
> 
> This story is part of an alternate universe where I imagined what might happen if the BWGs from the old Paul Frame illustrations were unfrozen from time, allowed to age and had to grow up in the Vietnam Era. Dan ended up going to Vietnam and came back messed up. I originally wrote this in 2001, posted it online for the first time in 2002 (under the name Kathy K), and am posting it to AO3 in 2017. I still love this story and I am still proud of what I wrote.


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